It begins.

We have a purchase contract on a house in CA. I have an acid stomach. I realized over the weekend that I have never once intentionally moved more than a few miles in my adult life. (I ended up in Tucson for school, always intending to move back to my family in Phoenix, but never did, so intentions-wise, that doesn't count.) All the moves in the past 20 years were close enough to run back to the "old place" for another load of stuff after work. This time, it ain't gonna work that way, and I think I might be in denial.
However, I had reached the point where there weren't any closets left to clean out that could be done without a hazmat suit. (The guest room is now a giant pit of despair, and I never moved all the craft stuff out of Bug's closet when my craft room became his room, so now all the craft things are wedged in there with pieces of toys and parts of cribs.) I cleaned out my closet.

Before: (La, don't look at the shelf, if you value your eyesight or your sanity)


I took everything out.
During:


(That laundry basket is DH's work shirts, which go to the laundromat to get washed and pressed, because Mama don't iron, and apparently, neither does Daddy. Mama's just smart enough to buy clothes that don't require it.)

I sorted it into piles. One to sell, one to donate, one to wear, one to pack.



Then I decided I was too lazy to take them to the consignment store, so I smooshed the to-sell and to-donate piles together. I hope someone shopping at the Goodwill store finds a great job wearing my interview dress.

I packed the to-pack stuff in a box. GASP. The first box of stuff to move. Holy crap, y'all, that means this is actually happening. (Living in the southwest desert generally means that one does not really have "summer" and "winter" clothes, one has short-sleeved and long-sleeved t-shirts. I do not pack away summer clothes in the fall, etc. so I can't even pretend it's just seasonal.)
Some of the wintry-looking stuff (velour skirts, sweats, that type of stuff) got thrown in the washer, and I hung up the remaining clothes.



It's hard to see there, but I think after all is said and done, there were three bottoms and 5 tops in there. Sigh. I have more in the wash and a few maternity things winging their way to me, but for the most part, I'm going to have to be really good about the laundry for the next several months...

(Sadly, I am aware that for a great majority of the world, what I'm whining about is actually an abundance of wealth. I will try to remember that when it's 7:30am and I realize I forgot to run the dryer with all my pants in it...)